The Matriarch's Daughter

Interlude: Dim's Dilemma

Dim surveyed his surroundings. The sun had started to set low on the horizon. A cool ocean breeze blew inland across the shore, carrying with it a taste of dust. All around him, the scene was one of devastation—rubble stretching as far as the eye could see, jagged remnants of the once-imposing mountain, and corpses left to bake under the relentless sun. The stench of rot clawed at his throat, making him gag, but he swallowed it down desperate to leave. However, he would not and could not.

He was afraid for two reasons. First, he knew how close they were to the human and Galak city. If scouts had happened upon them by chance, he doubted their ability to do anything about it before reinforcements could be summoned and their small goblin contingent was overtaken. A small band of goblins, no matter how vicious, was nothing compared to the organized strength of an allied army. Dim was almost certain this collapsed mountain was their doing, and knew they'd be back to see what remained of their handiwork.

But as unsettling as that thought was, it paled in comparison to the terror that loomed just a few feet away—the Goblin King. Dim's stomach churned at the sight of him, towering and pacing restlessly near the ruined entrance. The King was a force of nature, capable of feats that made the blood drain from Dim's face just thinking about them. Dim had seen him summon fire from nothing, tear men apart without so much as a grunt, and vanish into thin air like a ghost. Now, he was watching the Goblin King as he inspected the rubble, and Dim had no illusions about what would happen if things didn't go according to the King's plan.

Around them, three squads of goblins milled about, their minds too dull to grasp the danger they were in. Occasionally, a scuffle would break out among them, their boredom quickly turning into violence. Dim envied their ignorance. If they had even the slightest boost in intelligence, they'd be just as terrified as he was. The Goblin King wasn't known for his patience, and at any moment, Dim half-expected him to lash out and slaughter them all for their incompetence—or worse, for sport.

Dim's heart raced as the Goblin King shifted his gaze to the right, toward a path they'd already explored. His confusion deepened as the King began walking that way. There's nothing down there, Dim thought in a rising panic. They'd searched every inch of that path, and it led to a dead end. But if the Goblin King found something they'd missed... Dim gulped hard, the bitter taste of dust still clinging to his mouth. If there was something there, it would be his head on the line.

Reluctantly, and with a growing sense of dread, Dim followed. His second-in-command, Dum, trailed behind, as usual doing something utterly useless—this time picking his nose. Dim slapped him upside the head, earning a bewildered look, before motioning him to pay attention. Whatever was happening now, they couldn't afford any distractions.

The Goblin King stopped at the wall that marked the path's end, his gaze focused and intent. Dim watched as the King began to do something strange. First, he scraped his boot against the ground, dragging it deliberately across the dirt and stone, stirring up clouds of dust. Then, he ran his hands slowly over the surface of the wall, as if searching for something only he could feel. The seconds ticked by painfully, each one stretching longer than the last, until finally, the Goblin King's fingers stilled. He turned, his eyes locking onto Dim, a slow, cruel smile curling his lips.

Dim's heart seized in his chest once again desperate to flee. That smile couldn't mean anything good.

Without warning, the Goblin King twisted his hand, and the very mountain trembled. The earth groaned as rocks shifted, grinding against each other, and a new cloud of dust exploded into the air. Dim staggered back, coughing, blinded by the swirling debris. The ground shook beneath his feet, and he braced himself, terrified of what might happen next.